s u m m e r
seventh heaven
It started weeks ago in the glass nose of a B-25, following the Yadkin River, my back against the bulkhead, my feet propped up on three .50 cal machine guns. That lazy and inspiring flight touched off an adventure that only really ended a couple days ago at gate 42, GSO around 3:40 pm EST.
What happened in the meantime I'd be hard pressed to put into words but I know I'm gonna have to. I'm gonna have to for myself and for you and for everyone that's ever had such and experience and then at some later date couldn't bring up every detail at will. Like faded plastic pastel Easter eggs the memories had lost something.
Well, not these. They will exist in words as best I know how, will I can capture everything.
And with that I'll go ahead and tell you the next seven pieces will be dedicated to that expanse of time. From 38,000 ft. to sea level.
For those of you that wonder (sometimes aloud) if what you're reading is real or not, this is the one time I can promise...promise, beyond all doubt it is all true, and as real as a rusty nail in the foot or the Waits in the CD player behind me. Real as the green wax in my lava lamp, real as the scratches on my guitar---way down past the pick guard---real as the blues, and real as your next breath.
That said, read on...
goodnight 6.2.99